Even in Death
by Janayea
Summary: When a criminal investigation of Sherlock's goes awry, he ends up in the hospital - in a coma.


It was 1 A.M in the morning when John was startled awake by the sudden vibration of his phone on his bedside table. He groaned and reached for it in the darkness, and squinted at the bright light.

_John. Track my phone and get Lestrade with a police squad here immediately. I need your help._

_-SH_

John groaned again, and quickly texted a reply.

_What are you on about? Where are you? -JW_

_I can't say. Otherwise I would've said! Now please, hurry. -SH_

Sherlock said please. There was something wrong, and John knew it. He got out of bed quickly, sending out two more texts before hurriedly dressing.

_What's happening, Sherlock? Can't you at least tell me this? -JW_

and

_Lestrade, track this for me, and get there with a squad of your men as fast as possible. It's an emergency. -JW_

_Attachment: VoiceRecording056_

The replies, he recieved as soon as he hailed a taxi.

_Serial killer. -SH_

as well as

_Here. _

_Attachment: Map._

* * *

John told the cabbie this, and told him to "hurry". The cab drove as fast as he could without speeding.

_Sherlock, what the hell is going on? Answer me, dammit. -JW_

_It was a case gone awry. I didn't expect this to happen. I'm stuck in this building with a serial killer - he's got a gun, and I swear to it John, if you so much as get near the door I will kill you. Just get Lestrade here. We're both on the second floor, he's by the staircase. He's looking around. I'm going to sneak past him as soon as he looks away. Explanation enough for you?  
-SH_

John slammed shut his phone, thanked the cabbie, and ran to the front of the building.

_Sherlock, I'm coming in. -JW_

The reply was so fast he was surprised.

_DON'T YOU EVEN DARE, DOCTOR JOHN WATSON, OR I _SWEAR _I WILL MURDER YOU. -SH_

John winced, but he stepped off the porch and away from the door.

'Dammit, Lestrade, hurry up...' he thought.

Sherlock knew he was in trouble. The killer knew he was there - although if he was sure of who he was, Sherlock did not know. He knew that John was hard headed enough to not follow his command and bust in through the door anyways, so he decided to make his move. He sighed, very quietly in relief as he saw the killer walk away from the staircase.

He moved, slowly, almost _too _slowly, but he made it to the bottom of the stairs, where he thought he was home free until he felt an arm thrust around his neck, choking him, and a gun at his temple.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" the killer yelled. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? ARE YOU THAT DETECTIVE GUY? ARE YOU?"

The gunshot was loud, and unexpected.

And Sherlock's body fell with a thud to the floor.

The killer shook, panicking. He kicked at Sherlock's body and ran to the door, only to have it slammed open in his face. He was knocked unconcious by the impact.

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled, without even knowing where he was. And then he saw the blood.  
"No, no, oh God no.."

and then he saw the body.

The bloody, lifeless body on the floor.

And that was all it took for him to black out.

* * *

John woke up at the hospital. He had an orange shock blanket next to him, on a chair. He sat up, disoriented. Memories of the previous night flowed into his brain and he practically screamed.

"Sherlock!"

Lestrade walked in. He looked somber.

"John."

"Lestrade, what the hell happened? Where's Sherlock? Is he alright?" the questions flowed out of his mouth faster than he could think about them.

"John, Sherlock is.."

"Is? He is?"

"He's in critical condition. There's a chance he might not survive to see tomorrow."

The color washed out of John's face, and his eyes widened.

"No, no no.. I knew I should've done something.. dammit, this is my fault, all my fault.."  
and he buried his face in his hands.

* * *

The following morning, they discharged John from the hospital, but he stayed there to ask of Sherlock's condition. The nurse at the front desk, when he mentioned Sherlock's name, turned sympathetic.

"You're friend is in a coma. You can visit him, if you'd like."

John was shocked. "A coma!?"

The nurse nodded, and gave John the room number. Room 221. How ironic.

John practically ran to the room, and inside he saw Sherlock connected by many tubes to an IV. He had been cleaned of blood, but he still looked horrible.

John smiled weakly when he saw his friend, and took a seat next to him.

"Sherlock, you idiot. How could you do this to me?" He paused. "To yourself, even?"

He slowly traced a circle in the palm of Sherlock's hand.  
"I told you to be careful. God dammit, why will you never listen to me?"

He felt his voice crack.  
"Sherlock, please." a tear rolled down his cheek. "For me, please. Just wake up. We know you're strong enough to pull through. You're the... most definite person to pull through this."

John fell asleep there that night - in the same position he had been in all day, with one hand wrapped around Sherlocks, the other in his hair.

* * *

_Months Pass_

John had visited Sherlock everyday for the past 6 months. The doctors had finally decided that his heartbeat was so irregular, and that they could do nothing, they had to take him off life support.

At this information, John had thrown a tantrum - it was unprofessional of him, but at that time he did not give a care. His best friend was to be taken off life support, when John _knew _he would wake up. He would, wouldn't he?

The last day before his dear friend was probably soon to be dead, John checked his phone. There was nothing in his inbox, but his outbox was considerably full.

_Sherlock, I'm coming to visit today. -JW_

_Sherlock, wake up, please. -JW_

_I'm bringing you flowers. -JW_

_For Christ's sake, Sherlock, please. -JW_

_I'm dying. -JW_

_How could you do this to me? -JW_

_I'll be there for you. No matter what. -JW_

He sighed and decided there was no use to go to the hospital today. The doctors were to be busy, and he did not want to get in their way.

The next morning, his phone vibrated.

_I'll be there for you, too, John. I love you. -SH_


End file.
